Monday, September 26, 2005

Breakfast on the job

I'm going to try one last time to post this before giving up for the day. Blogger's been horribly glitchy, and I simply don't have time for this nonsense.

This morning I was up before the sun and as you can see, had breakfast at my desk. I'm on a writing jag and didn't want to stop even long enough to sit down at the kitchen table, so I poured my tea and filled a plate with fresh fruit and some chewy hunks of multi-grain baguette spread with cherry preserves and brought everything into my office.

I don't work at a real desk, but at a small writing table. I like the simplicity of that. But although my workspace is usually quite neat, things are a bit cramped today. (That's my WIP next to the computer. Lord willing, I'll have this manuscript in the mail to my editor by Saturday.) Notice, though, that my table (which is only about 4-1/2 feet long) is never too crowded for a little clutch of roses. These fragrant darlings are perched atop a stack of books, right where I can stare at them when I pause in my writing and editing to rack my brain for the perfect word (I'm still trying to work "splendid" into a manuscript; unfortunately, none of my characters would be caught dead saying or thinking that word).

I'm blogging light today and probably tomorrow and Wednesday, too. If you're waiting for an answer to an e-mail, please be patient. I'll get back to you as soon as I can.

3 comments:

"Have you at least learned to waltz, Lizzie? For it is very popular, you know, although Almacks in all its 'wisdom' will only allow one per assembly." Miss Murdock looked more relieved than crestfallen to have her fears of inadequacy confirmed. "No, I have not, for my father says such a dance was not at all allowed when he was a young man." And Andrew with undeniable enthusiasm, said, "Well, than I must teach you immediately." Before she could demur, he caught her hand, held it out from them in the correct position and quite took her breath away by wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to the proper distance from him. "But there is no music," Miss Murdock hedged with desperation. "I shall hum," Andrew told her grandly. He did begin to hum, and Miss Murdock laughed, and he went slowly at first until she caught the steps. He interrupted his impromptu music to tell her, "Hand on my shoulder, Miss Murdock, and three quarter time! One, two, three. One, two, three. Splendid! Now we shall speed up a bit, shall we?"

I was on a writing jag today, too. Created my story for FIF in one sitting, ten pages. That's a lot for me. I usually struggle to eke out four pages. It was the antithesis of a Regency--a futuristic taking place in a stinky alley with rats and rotting garbage. And a man gets beaten to death and a thief gets saved. So, yeah, no hint of Georgette Heyer.